


Bells Are Ringing

by revolutionary_lancelot



Category: Bells Are Ringing - Fandom, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Dialogue Heavy, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Pining, Polyamory, Slow Burn (kinda), Thomas is lowkey alcoholic, alcoholic tendencies, fake personalities, google translate french, like not really but also kinda, non-binary Lafayette, tbh this is so minorly based on Bells Are Ringing its kind of astonishing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-05-29 17:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15077837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revolutionary_lancelot/pseuds/revolutionary_lancelot
Summary: Alexander works his ass off taking phone calls and relaying messages for George Washington, leading candidate for the State Senator position of New York.  In an attempt to make work go by a little bit faster, he starts pretending to be different people for each caller.Mr. Jefferson is applying to join the legal department of Washington's campaign team. To be considered, he has to write a proposal outlining how he could improve the quality of the team. Thomas finds the inspiration he needs in one of Washington's secretaries, who he's only ever talked to on the phone.What could possibly happen?(YOU DO NOT NEED ANY KNOWLEDGE OF "BELLS ARE RINGING" TO UNDERSTAND THIS FIC)





	1. Bells Are Ringing

**Author's Note:**

> Brief character overview:  
> Alexander: secretary for Senator Washington's campaign team; like creating characters for different phone correspondents  
> Lafayette: secretary for Senator Washington's campaign team; in a poly relationship with Hercules  
> John: Alex & Laf's supervisor on Washington's campaign team; dating Charles  
> Hercules: delivery guy for Washington's campaign team; in a poly relationship with Laf  
> Charles: politician with views opposing Washington's, dating John  
> Washington: Senator of New York  
> Thomas (Mr. Jefferson): young politician who wants to get in with Washington; believes Alexander to be an old man he calls "Dad"

“Alex, we need to talk.” John was leaning on the secretary desk, unamusedly watching Alexander and Lafayette smirk behind the computers.

“C’mon, John,” Alex whined and spun the desk chair towards his supervisor, “Sitting around all day taking phone calls is boring as all hell. This is the only way to make it interesting!”. Sure, when Alexander had first been hired by Senator Washington’s campaign team, he had followed every rule to a T and never set a toe out of line. But a week later, Alex and Lafayette couldn’t find a single mildly entertaining thing about 60-year-old men sucking up to the New York senator. The idea of taking on a character when they picked up the phone was first proposed by Laf as a joke after a night of drinking just a little too much. When Hercules brought it up the next day, Alexander agreed to try it. The scheme quickly evolved from there and became a primary source of enjoyment for the two secretaries.

“Seriously?” John glared. “What is Hercules doing around here all the time if not entertaining you two?”

“He mostly helps _mon petit lion_ and I come up with new voices.” Lafayette offered from behind their cup of tea. Alex snorted when John’s disapproving look morphed into exasperation.

The supervisor pointed an accusatory finger at Alex, who made sure to look as innocent as possible. “Hugh Knox has asked me three times if he could take “the other French one” off my hands. Do you two have any remorse for how awkward it was to tell him that there aren’t more of you assholes? _Stop laughing_!”

The two secretaries were positively howling with laughter now, Alex was in danger of spilling his coffee and Lafayette was clutching their desk in an attempt to stay in the chair.

John had just opened his mouth to reprimand his underlings further when the phone on Laf’s desk started ringing. They quickly peered at the caller ID and beckoned Alex over. “Ooo, _mon ami_ , it’s your special someone!” they taunted in a singsong voice. Alexander double-checked the ID before clearing his throat and picking up the phone.

“Senator Washington’s office, how may I help you?” he rattled off in a feeble, old voice.

“What the fuck,” John deadpanned. Lafayette shushed him with a grin and encouraged him to scoot closer and listen.

“No Mr. Jefferson, Senator Washington is booked through next Tuesday.”

A heavy sigh filtered through from the other end. “Right... What’s the soonest time you can get me in?”

Alex flipped through his company issued planner to the following week, dragging his finger down the column marked “10”. “That would be Tuesday the 10th at 9:30 AM, Mr. Jefferson.”

Another sigh, followed by “OK. Thanks, Dad.” Lafayette just barely got their hand over John’s mouth to suppress a shriek while Alex beamed triumphantly. “Not at all, Mr. Jefferson.” and the phone was dropped back into the base.

“ _Alexander Hamilton, did you convince that man that you were his father_?!” John whisper-screamed at the immigrant spinning confidently in a swivel chair. The accused scoffed.

“Of course not. Hercules submitted the wonderful idea of being a little old man a few weeks back and dear Mr. Jefferson just happened to be the next caller. Not really sure where the whole ‘Dad’ thing came from, though.” Alex shrugged. Lafayette was laid back in their chair, snickering at the scene before them before John rounded on them next.

“And why did you say ‘it’s your special someone’ when Jefferson first called?” he demanded. The French secretary's smirk faded to a furrowed brow, before being replaced by a dramatic twinkle and a hand on their chest.

“It would seem that _mon petit_ Alexander has, ah, how you say, _un coup de coeur_ on darling Mr. Jefferson.” Alex made a strangled noise and flushed bright red.

“You’re in love,” Alexander flinched “with a voice.” John stared at the Carribean intern as Lafayette chimed in “Plaza oh-double four-double three.” Alexander switched his incredulous gaze to Laf.

“No one has used that phone number system since the 60s, you French fuck.” Lafayette simply shrugged and turned back to their computer.

“I thought it would be more romantic, _non_?” John sunk his head into his hands, wishing to any god above that these two wouldn’t mess up his chances of being promoted under Washington. He straightened back up and checked his watch, letting a slow breath whistle through his teeth.

“Fine. Alright. I have a date with Charles in an hour, and we’re going to see if he can rent out the place next door.” John saw Lafayette faintly grimace out of the corner of his eye. “You two better not mess shit up any further, because I’ll be at blame,” he paused, “and remind me to never leave the both of you alone with Hercules anymore.” he added with a small smile. Laf and Alex bid their supervisor farewell with a short chorus of “Goodbye, _mon amour_ ” and “See ya later, loser” (John flipped Alexander off for the last one).

With the sudden lack of phone calls, the two secretaries got to work with only minimal chatter to distract them. The taller of the two rolled their chair back 40 minutes later and stretched their arms before scooching over to Alexander’s desk.

“Just give me a second to place this order,” he murmured, then hit a final key and turned his attention to the French foreigner in front of him. “What’s up, Laffy?”.

Lafayette groaned and slumped forward. “Why does Laurens insist on being with Charles Lee?” they asked and Alexander reached out to grab his pining friend’s hand.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he said softly. “John was kinda down after he and I didn’t work out, seeing you and Herc be all sappy and in love was hard for him. Lee swooped in out of nowhere John was just looking for anyone to be with. I’m sure it won’t last.”

Laf looked up at Alex with wide eyes. “Do you really think so?”

Alex nodded. “You’re never around when John gets really drunk.” He grinned. “Not even God himself could stop that man from waxing poetic about Herc’s shoulders and your hair.”

Lafayette sniffed and returned a small smile. “ _Mon ange_ has very nice hair as well...” they trailed off.

“And opinions on his freckles?” Alex smirked.

“Ugh, _mon petit_ , don’t tease me.” they covered their face with their fingers to hide a smile. Alexander continued to caress Laf’s hand as they lapsed into a thoughtful silence.

“Now, how are we going to convince Mr. Jefferson into believing you aren’t 63?”


	2. It's A Perfect Relationship pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fun times! then angst i wasn't expecting to write!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, sorry this took so long! i'm trying to make chapters closer to 2000 words, and i'm already a slow writer. hopefully it pays off??
> 
> ALSO the collin ep from the blindspotting soundtrack has taken over my life its genuinely so good. daveed k i l l s i t

The Revolutionary was packed with people for a work night. Lafayette and Hercules smushed themselves together in an otherwise roomy booth. Alex trooped back to the table with a tray of alcohol for the group, fussing over John being 30 minutes late. He slid Lafayette their Mai Tai, a bottle of “whatever stout they have” for Hercules, and a vodka-heavy madras for himself. A grunt of approval from Herc, then Alex resumed glaring at the door over his glass.

“Dude, he’s gonna show up,” Hercules said. “I could sense your brooding from across the bar.” Alexander burrowed further into his seat, sipping his drink.

“But he promised and now he’s late!” the immigrant complained. “Bet he’d be here by now if he wasn’t with Lee.” Either the mention of Lee or the unrestrained venom in Alex’s tone made Lafayette wince before trying their own drink.

“Well, we can discuss why you have so much ill intent towards Charles while John isn’t here.” Laf offered.

Alex fixed them with a sharp look, shooting back “Don’t act as if I’m the only one who thinks it, Laf. I work with you.” Lafayette raised an eyebrow as a silent encouragement, making Alexander sigh. “He’s a sleazebag. With his stupid German expertise and his stupid desire to be in politics with his stupid ideas.”

“Alexander Hamilton and his impassioned vocabulary, ladies and gentlemen.” Hercules raised his glass in salute and Lafayette snorted beside him. Alex purposefully ignored him to continue his tirade.

“It’s no secret I'm not a fan of him. It even pisses John off because I keep standing Lee up,” Alexander implored, swirling a finger around the rim of his glass. “But how are you two going to enamor him?” he asked, “Because Laf tells me how they want John, but I see you thinking the same, Herc.” Lafayette sighed, letting an agonized face mask their usually cheerful features. Hercules tightened his grip around his datemate and matched their frown.

“We won’t pressure John into dating us,” he began, “especially when he’s in a relationship right now. You go on and on about how their stint won’t last, Ham, so if they break it off, we’ll move in on him.”

“Or you could seduce him right now.” Alex wiggled his eyebrows. “Keep ‘im on his toes.” He prolonged the last word. Lafayette smacked him on the shoulder while Alexander snickered into his glass.

“We are not home wreckers, _mon chou_ ,” they scolded, “you're being fucking rude.”

“Ooo why are we calling Hammie ‘fucking rude’ this time?” John announced his presence by sliding into the booth next to Alex with a bottle of Sam Adams. Hercules shot the small man a scathing before turning back to address the newest arrival.

“ _Lexi_ ,” he drawled over Alexander’s whining, “is always rude and we shouldn’t need a specific occasion to point his crudeness out.”

“I’ll drink to Alex's flaws,” John replied. A round of “cheers” echoed through the group, everyone downing their own beverage.

The conversation lulled and gave Alexander time to consider the three people sitting with him. John claimed to be content with Charles and, as much as Alex hated to admit it, they weren’t the worst couple. John seemed to be happier now he has someone to be with. Charles wasn’t abusive or brash towards his boyfriend but could be occasionally dismissive. The subject of how the two got together remained to be up in the air as Alex and John had been bad-mouthing his views towards Washington a week before their first date. It seemed to align with Alex’s stance on how long their relationship would last since there wasn’t the same spark between John and Charles as there is with Herc and Laf, who’d been dating for almost 4 years and they were as dedicated to each other now as they were then.

Yet both Lafayette and Hercules wanted John too. They’d wanted John for half of their own relationship, and it had only been amplified when John got back into the dating pool. The most fascinating thing to Alexander was how they all handled it. Lafayette didn't understand subtlety around John. They called him all the same French endearments as Hercules with no abandon. They casually flirted with him without noticing it. It was agonizing to watch Lafayette fall head over heels for John whenever he walked in a room, only to be so callously dismissed every time. And they still were happy for John and Lee’s relationship despite it all. Alexander concluded Laf was one of the most charitable person he had ever met and they deserved the world.

Then there was Hercules. He was more reserved in his yearn for John, but just as passionate. He showed real concern whenever John and his boyfriend were fighting, or when John felt neglected. It seemed strange to see the two interact because anyone who didn’t know them would think they were already together. John was always more physical with Hercules than anyone else (something a certain French native lamented over at length), brushing shoulders and hugging during greetings and goodbyes. Hercules has been better at hiding his feelings than Lafayette, who wore their heart on their sleeve. His passiveness made it easier for Alexander to witness them circling each other, knowing he wouldn't have to watch Hercules look so crestfallen when John left.

“Hey, Earth to Hammie.” Alexander snapped out of his thoughts to see his friends scrutinizing him.

“Yeah, sorry,” he said. “I was thinking about work.” Lafayette and John exchanged a glimpse. Lafayette’s face broke into a grin and they nudged their boyfriend.

“Yes _mon ami_ , tell Hercules about your escapades with _Monsieur_ Jefferson!” they laughed. Hercules perked up at the same time John groaned “Please, no.”

“It’s crazy,” Alex paused, “nonsensical.”

“Uh-oh. ‘Human-thesaurus Alexander’ is only a few drinks away from ‘fight-me-right-now Alexander’,” Hercules said.

“Herc, man, I love you,” Alex mumbled, “but I’m gonna need you to stop roasting me. I have to go home at some point and I'm never going to get to if you keep interrupting me with sick burns.

“This Jefferson guy was calling Washington every day for weeks, right? And it’s aggravating me because he calls so damn often and I don’t even have a voice picked out for him. So the 85th time he calls I wrack my voice-bank and I remember the one you said would be funny during your prior visit! I picked up the phone and answered ‘Senator Washington’s office, how may I help you?’ in a typical old man voice. Jefferson didn’t seem super surprised... only a few elderly interns out there.

“Anyway, Laf and I scraped a game plan together where I would always answer Jefferson’s calls in an old man voice, soon the dude is calling me ‘Dad’ out of nowhere, and I went along with it. I’m not one to waste a good bit. But, um, I started noticing how copacetic his voice is, then Laf told me he’s hot. It, uh, kinda escalated from there, I guess.”

The table was silent while Alexander’s speech sunk in. The quiet was broken when Hercules let out a low whistle.

“You are in deep, Ham.”

“Wait, no,” John interjected, “how does Laf know that he’s hot?” Alexander looked up at Lafayette, silently asking them to explain for themselves.

“ _Sénateur_ Washington made Alexander take a day off. I believe it had something to do with _mon petit_ ’s refusal to go home and sleep instead of staying at the office all night.” Alexander made a noise of discontent at what he considered to be oversharing, which Lafayette soothed with a shoulder pat before continuing. “Hercules was dropping off supplies when Jefferson came in that day for a meeting with Washington, only to find out that he had been rescheduled without his knowledge. We had a brief conversation, but yes, I agree, he is quite attractive.”

Hercules laughed at how modest his partner was being. “Babe, he looks just like you. I have never seen any two people look so similar before in my life. If Jefferson had had his hair up, I would have freaked out.”

“ _Pas vrai_. He has broader shoulders than I and lighter eyes.” Lafayette paused to contemplate Jefferson’s appearance. “He looked to be a few inches taller than me, _aussi_.” Hercules stared at Laf in minor disbelief for taking in that much information in so little time. He only broke out of it to kick John under the table for his comment about Hercules needing to keep his guard up around handsome strangers.

After a few more minutes of amiable conversing, the group decided to turn in for the night. John and Alexander slid out of the booth together to put on their jackets while Hercules waited for Laf to finish putting on lip gloss.

“It’s not even cold enough for your lips to get chapped yet!” Hercules threw up his hands in mock frustration.

“You weren’t complaining about how soft my lips were last night, _mon cher_.” Laf quipped without looking up from their phone/mirror, but saw Hercules flush and cover his face in their periphery.

“Ew, you two, get a room,” John said and laughed as Alexander mimed vomiting next to him.

The four made their way out the door and said their goodbyes (Lafayette insisted on hugging John and Alex, too). The couple took off hand-in-hand in one direction and Alex and John in the other. They walked in silence until they reached John’s apartment building.

“Laf and Herc are a great couple,” John sighed. Alex hummed in agreement. So quietly that Alexander could barely hear, he added: “Wish I could be in something like that.” Alex’s eyes widened at the confession causing John to wince.

“No! Not like that! It’s-” he groaned and ran his hands through his curls. “I like Charles, I really do, but... Hercules is so _happy_ with Lafayette. They’re the couple everyone wishes they were because of how well they understand each other. Like when Laf had to go back to France for three weeks and Hercules was devastated. I have never seen him so down in seven years of knowing him, Alex.” That was true. Alexander had also seen the effects that Lafayette’s absence had on his friend. Hercules and never looked so dejected for such a prolonged amount of time.

“And you know what the worst part is?” John was looking at Alexander with wide, watery eyes. It was eerily similar to the exchange he had with Lafayette just hours before. “I like them, too. I’m with Charles and he makes me happy, and I still wonder what it would be like to date Hercules and Lafayette. I'm just too fucking scared of rejection to actually talk to them. I’m a horrible boyfriend.” John sunk down the wall and wrapped his arms around his legs, crying quietly.

Alex kneeled down to comfort his friend. “Hey, hey, stop that.” He wrapped his arms around John’s shaking frame. “John Laurens, you’re a great boyfriend and anyone who can’t see that is a fucking fool. You’re the kindest, most caring person I know. You’ve overcome more in 25 years than most people will in their whole life, and you’re braver and stronger because of it. Now, who do I have to kill for making you feel this way?” John let out a wet laugh and let Alex help him back up.

“Do you think I’d really have a chance with them?” John asked suddenly. Alex met his gaze and nodded.

“I’m absolutely positive. You could take all the time in the world and they’d still say yes if you asked.” And Alexander believed it.

John let out a shaky breath. “Ok.” He turned to enter his building before stopping to add “Thanks, Alex.” over his shoulder.

“No problem, Jack.”

Alexander watched him go before continuing to his own apartment building. He stopped at the intersection where he would normally turn right, entertained another thought. Going right would take him back to his room, but left would lead him to Washington’s office and, indirectly, Thomas Jefferson.

He chose left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some notes that aren't super duper important:  
> • alex, john, and hercules are all 25  
> • lafayette is 23  
> • thomas is 29  
> • laf has dark brown eyes like daveed, but thomas's eyes are more cognac-colored because i felt like it oops  
> • i probably won't go into detail about john's past? i dunno we'll see but if you're really curious, leave a comment and i'll give you a rundown. it's not detrimental to the plot.  
> • i'm 100% projecting onto lafayette because i love them  
> • next chapter is from thomas's pov! i'll explain the setting better when we get there dw


	3. It's A Perfect Relationship pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a continuation of last chapter because i wasn't satisfied with it. this was supposed to be short ooooops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i keep putting italics in everything like some kind of f o o l  
> NEXT chapter will be thomas's pov i swear. and i figured out a way for me to be able to write chapters faster! yay!
> 
> translations at the end

The only sounds that could be heard in the small alleyway behind Washington’s office building were Alexander’s faint cursing and the jingling of his bulky keychain. After several minutes of searching for the right key, Alex shoved the door open and made his way up the rickety, metal stairs. He could probably have taken the elevator, but he didn’t want to bother the nighttime cleaning staff. They’d probably alert Washington to him being there at -Alexander glanced down at his watch- 12:04 AM, and while him being there was allowed, it definitely wasn’t encouraged.

He let himself through one last door at the top of the stairs, dragging himself behind the reception desk and dropping into his chair. Alexander rubbed his eyes before sitting up straighter to at least look less tired. He spotted the binder that Robert Morris, head of the finance department, had left for him to look at. Morris was one of the few higher-ups that recognized Alexander’s drive for success, so he often gave the younger man copies of new finance plans and info sheets to go over and occasionally submit corrections to. The pages of the binder were filled with a new finance plan Morris has written with several adjustments from Hamilton. Flipping through the plan, Alex saw no huge parts that needed revision, just a few small grammatical errors, and areas that could use some better wording. He marked those with a light blue pen, then shut the cover and put it aside to deliver the Morris in the morning.

The clock on the wall ticked softly on the wall behind the desk and Alexander spun his chair around to look at it. Only around 20 minutes had passed, causing Alex to sigh. He looked around the desk, searching for another task to occupy himself with when his eyes landed on the phone. Now there was an idea...

“No,” he said out loud, startling himself. “I cannot call Jefferson. I’m buzzed, it’s late, that’s weird.” Alex stood up quickly and took a step toward the filing cabinet in hopes of organizing files that had gotten out of hand. He mentally repeated a mantra of “ _don’t call Jefferson, don’t call Jefferson, Alexander don’t you dare call Thomas Jefferson_ ” while his hands went on autopilot to sort and place papers. The job only took a handful of minutes, leaving Alex with nothing to do again. His gaze flitted back around the room in vain and settled on the phone again.

“ _Don’t call him, Hamilton, don’t do it, you’re drunk don’t fucking call him_.”

In three quick steps, Alexander was dialing Jefferson’s number.

The phone rang a few times before the man picked up. “Hello?” It sounded more like a sigh than a greeting.

“Mr. Jefferson?”

Thomas was silent for a second before exclaiming, “Wha- Dad? Why are you calling me?”

_Shit_. Alex hadn’t thought about that part. He was mostly hoping that Jefferson would just roll with it. “Oh, just stopped by the office and thought I’d check in,” he trailed off with a nervous laugh.

“Dad, it’s almost one in the morning! Go home, I’m fine!” Jefferson sounded appalled. Alexander supposed he had good reason to be.

Alex cursed himself for not thinking about a conversation guide before he called. Slightly panicked, he went with the first thing that came to mind: Thomas’s plan to join Washington’s campaign team. “Nonsense, boy, you sound exhausted and I bet you weren’t working on your curriculum vitae.”

“Ugh, Dad, I’m at the finance clause,” Jefferson groaned. “I’m shit at finance.”

“Language,” he reprimanded, then paused. Jefferson may be terrible at handling finances, but he certainly wasn’t. “Tell you what. I’ll help you write up your plan-” Thomas made a noise of interest “-if you promise that you’ll actually work on it outside of when we talk.”

“I _do_ work on it outside of when we talk,” Jefferson retorted, though he sounded more like a petulant child than a grown adult. Alexander grinned when he could actually hear Jefferson pout.

The secretary was reminded of a short conversation they’d had a week or so earlier. “Lies. You told me yourself that you haven’t worked on it in weeks and you cope by sleeping, drinking, and throwing parties.”

Jefferson didn’t answer right away, leaving Alex worried that the drinking comment hit too close to home. Thomas had been trustingly honest when he admitted that he probably did drink too much, too often when stress hit. Alex was about to apologize when Jefferson spoke up again.

“What do you get from it?”

Alexander really didn’t get anything from helping Thomas. Well, he got to talk to him which was more than he could ask for, but there was no way he could admit that. “The knowledge that you’re not wasting every second of your life away,” he answered with a surprising amount of honesty bleeding through the old man voice.

Jefferson considered the reply before coming to a conclusion. “I’ll do it.” Alex silently cheered. “Can we make any headway now?” Jefferson asked.

Thomas began reading out problematic areas of his résumé while Alexander listened and gave his input where needed. At one point, Jefferson stopped to ask if it would be easier to just e-mail him a copy so they could edit in tandem, leaving Alex to grasp at straws before coming up with a weak excuse of not being tech-savvy enough. Jefferson claimed it was no problem and continued to read out loud.

Trying to decipher what areas of the plan needed correction and keep up a convincing act was proving to be difficult while most of Alex’s brain power was devoted to listening to Thomas’s voice. It was soothing, wrapped in a rich accent that accentuated vowels. His voice was deep and warm, like a well-worn blanket on a cold day. Or maybe a fireplace-

Alexander’s thoughts were cut off by the insistent buzzing of his phone. He mentally scolded himself for getting so carried away in his thoughts as he unlocked his phone and opened his notifications. Alex blanched when he saw that the messages were from Hercules.

“Sorry, Mr. Jefferson, but you’ll have to excuse me for a moment,” he rushed, cutting Thomas off of whatever he was saying. Alexander put his end of the line on mute and went through the texts in the group chat he had with John, Laf, and Hercules. John seemed to be the only one asleep if his silence was anything to go by.

_**wonderboy 1:42 a.m.** _

  * _wtf alex?_
  * _liza never saw u come in + u never checked with her?_
  * _dude lafs having kittens where tf are you_



_**le français 1:44 a.m.** _

  * _des minous!!?!_



_**wonderboy 1:44 a.m.** _

  * _babe go to sleep ur drunk_



_**le français 1:45 a.m.** _

  * _non, alex manque et il y a des minous_



_**wonderboy 1:46 a.m.** _

  * _i cant understand u go to s l e e p_



_**A.Ham 1:46 a.m.** _

  * _Herc, I’m fine. Laf, va te choucher. Il n’y a pas de minous._



_**le français 1:47 a.m.** _

  * _alex!1_
  * _poirquoi n’y a-t-il pas chats?_



_**wonderboy 1:47 a.m.** _

  * _where r u?_



_**A.Ham 1:48 a.m.** _

  * _I’m at the office. Don’t worry about it._



_**wonderboy 1:48 a.m.** _

  * _y r u at the office?!?_



_**le français 1:48 a.m.** _

  * _alexanderrrrrrr rentre à la maison_



_**wonderboy 1:48 a.m.** _

  * _laf im taking ur phone_



_**le français 1:49 a.m.** _

  * _non!1!!_



_**A.Ham 1:50 a.m.** _

  * _I’ll text Eliza and tell her where I am. You two can stop worrying. Dormir plutôt._



_**le français 1:50 a.m.** _

  * _bonne nuit mon petit lion_
  * _rester en sécurité_



_**wonderboy 1:50 a.m.** _

  * _someday you 2 will realize that i don’t know french_



_**A.Ham 1:51 a.m.** _

  * _Maybe we do know and enjoy speaking in secret code language._



_**wonderboy 1:51 a.m.** _

  * _whatever ham_
  * _just don’t forget to text liza_



_**A.Ham 1:51 a.m.** _

  * _I won’t. Goodnight._



_**wonderboy 1:52 a.m.** _

  * _night_



Damn. He really hadn’t meant to worry his friends and keep them up so late. Alex shot a quick text off to Eliza telling her where he was, then another letting her know not to stay up and wait for him. Without waiting for a response, he pocketed his cell phone, picked up the office phone and unmuted himself.

“My apologies for the interruption, Mr. Jefferson. I’m back now,” Alexander said in what he hoped was an even voice

“No, it’s alright,” Thomas sighed. “Are you ready to start again? Or do you need a little longer?” Alexander hummed. “There shouldn’t be any further disruptions, Mr. Jefferson.”

The two dove back into work. They worked mostly effectively for a while, only held up by Alexander’s opinion differences which led to half-energized debates. Both of them were too tired and Jefferson too stressed to put a lot of effort into disputes so early in the morning. Thomas was halfway through a clause about budget distribution when he started yawning every few words.

Alex paused, furrowing his brow. “Mr. Jefferson, are you tired?” He hadn’t looked at the time in a while now. He really didn’t want to be the cause for another person losing sleep.

“It’s almost 3 a.m., Dad.” Alexander heard the phone be pressed into something, probably Thomas’s shirt, then he yawned again. “Aren’t you?”

Truth be told, Alex was too used to pulling all-nighters to be “dead-on-your-feet-the-next-morning” tired, but he didn’t know many 50+-year-olds who could say the same. He didn’t want to lie to Thomas even more than he had, though...

“I suppose so.”

“You still have work in the morning,” Jefferson pondered like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Alex bit back an “it’s already morning” comment. “Wake me up in a few hours...”

He could do that. Just call Jefferson when he checked into work at nine. “Of course, Thomas.”

Jefferson stopped himself in the middle of a phrase. “You’ve never called me ‘Thomas’ before,” he said slowly. “No, it’s fine-” he cut short Alexander’s spluttered apology, “I didn’t mind it.” The sly grin in his tone was practically audible. There were a few beats of silence before Jefferson added: “night, Dad."

“Goodnight, Mr. Jefferson.” Alexander gently hung up the phone. _Thomas_.

⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺

The walk back to Alexander’s apartment was filled with him wondering all about Thomas Jefferson. It had been hours since his last drink, but enough alcohol remained in his system to give him a slight buzz. No one was out on the side streets he took at this hour, leaving him free to talk out loud as he walked without people overhearing him. Alex turned out of the alley where the back entrance was and began sorting out his thoughts.

“I know he at least looks similar to Laf. But his eyes are a lighter brown... Does he wear glasses? Or contacts? Neither? Hercules probably would have mentioned glasses, so contacts or good vision are probable.” He stopped at a crosswalk and glanced around for cars. There were none, and Alex ignored the orange hand telling him to wait and crossed anyway.

“Wonder what his facial hair is like. Oh, he might not have any! Laf goes clean-shaven every once in a while. Maybe they were on the day that Jefferson came in.” He walked a bit further in silence, then started up again. “Where’s he from? He obviously has an accent and it’s pretty southern. It’s different from John’s, though. His is had more of a twang than Jefferson’s drawl.” Another crosswalk with no traffic and this time Alexander jaywalked through the middle of the street.

“I suppose Jefferson does sort of sound like Madison and Washington, but both of them have lost most of theirs. He could be from Virginia, but I’d need to research. Or ask,” he added as an afterthought.

“Is his hair as nice as Laf’s? Would he let me touch it? Is that weird? That’s weird.”

“Can he dance? We could go dancing as a date. That’d be fun.”

“Would he love me?”

A harsh pause.

Alexander shook his head and started walking again. “Wow, Alex, slow down. He doesn’t even know who you are.” He remembered what Lafayette said about Thomas thinking he was 63. “No, John’s not right,” he stated with false confidence like he was trying to convince the empty street. “I can’t be in love with a voice. That’s ridiculous.” He decided that was a good place to stop digging himself into a mental hole, and walked the last few blocks home in silence.

Alex let himself into the building and climbed to the fourth floor, quietly cursing his apartment building for not having an elevator. He put a sticky note on Eliza’s door, the first apartment on the right, letting her know that he safely got home. He briefly considered texting her, but Eliza is such a light sleeper that her text alert would probably wake her up. His own apartment is a few more doors down on the left and he made his way over to it. Alex learned a while ago that the door won’t unlock unless you jiggle the knob and still requires a decent shove to actually open. He didn’t bother turning on the lights inside, just fumbled to his bedroom while strategically avoiding stacks of books that are _super organized, fuck off Hercules_.

The light in the bedroom stayed off too as Alex stripped to just his boxers and double-checked that the alarm was set for 8 a.m.. He almost put a reminder on his phone to call Thomas when he got to work, instead, he vowed to remember. “ _My sleeping prince_ ,” he thought fondly.

With self-created images of Jefferson running through his head, Alex rolled over and easily fell asleep without trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the french:
> 
> des minous!!?! - kittens!!?!  
> non, alex manque et il y a des minous - no, alex is missing and there are kittens  
> va te choucher. Il n’y a pas de minous. - go to bed. There are no kittens  
> poirquoi n’y a-t-il pas chats? - why are there not cats?  
> alexanderrrrrrr rentre à la maison - alexanderrrrrrr go home  
> Dormir plutôt. - Sleep instead.  
> bonne nuit mon petit lion - good night my little lion  
> rester en sécurité - stay safe


	4. On My Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Thomas is v gay, Peggy is the greatest ever, and i have a huge talent crush (thank you mr. odom jr for that wonderful phrase) on sydney chaplin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tells y’all that i have a new writing method* *promptly gets writer's block for a week and take a month to update*
> 
> school has started back up again and the joys of marching season come with it (plz send help i’m getting my ass kicked over here), so i apologize if updates are even slower than usual. i do try and take time with these chapters in an attempt to make them enjoyable to read, which doesn’t help the getting chapters out quick deal. 
> 
> on a side note, i went back through the previous chapters and,,,,,,, o o f. anyone who got through the second one without cringing to death deserves a gold star. that one’s deeefffinitly getting re-written

“James, I know you only mean good, but I’d rather get through this whole process on my own.” Thomas set down the glasses he was carrying on the bar where they joined wine, whiskey, and water. James, who had come over early to chat and help set up, threaded a few wine glass stems onto the glass holder he had assembled. The catching up Thomas had hoped to do had turned into James making inquiries onto his love life pretty quickly. He and Dolley had recently moved in together, only spurring on his investment in what he called Thomas’s “well-being”. 

“When was the last time you were in a relationship?” he asked while reorganizing the flower centerpiece, “Because I’m pretty sure it was with Martha Wayles during your senior year of college. That was seven years ago, Thomas! You two split up because you realized that you’re gay!” James bringing up the Martha Incident was never a good sign. 

Thomas turned away from James and shrugged. “Thanks for caring but I don’t need anyone in my life right now.” He glanced around for the water dispenser, spotting it on the island countertop. 

“No offense, Thomas, but you are one of those people who _always_ needs someone in their life. You can’t function properly without another person reminding you to,” James called dryly after his friend’s retreating back. 

The taller man scoffed as he filled the dispenser. “I’m just fine.” The sink was shut off and Thomas brought the water back to the bar. “I don’t need anyone, and no one needs me.”

“Really.” James deadpanned. “While your work ethic has gone up-” Thomas raised an eyebrow at that “- the project for Washington not included, so has your alcohol dependency.”

“It has not!”

James glared at his offended expression. “I see about 7 empty wine bottles and a half-empty glass of whiskey that would say otherwise.”

“I’m independent and on my own and I’m _fine_.” Thomas scowled, attempting to move the conversation away from his less-than-healthy drinking habits. Thankfully, it seemed to work as James was back at talking about getting him a boyfriend.

“I could try and set you up with someone at work,” he mused. “There’s this one guy; he’s a receptionist... no, you’d probably hate him.” Thomas knew that James wouldn’t actually try and get him with someone from Washington’s team. There were too many loopholes they’d have to jump through for that to play out well. Perhaps it was the slight joking tone James took on that encouraged Thomas to speak again. 

“Look, Jemmy, I don’t need anyone right now, honest,” he said, no bite in his voice now. “ _And_ ,” he added, suddenly remembering something, “I’ll gladly remind you of Maria Cosway.” Thomas had a smug smile on his face as if this information was going to win him the argument.

James groaned. “That situation was a fucking nightmare and you know it, Thomas. You _knew_ that you’re gay and Maria Cosway is _married_ to a _woman_.”

“Maria’s pansexual and she and Richelle are in an open relationship,” he muttered while laying down a stack of paper napkins. 

“Oh, my apologies,” James snarked. “Did I leave out the point where you’re not attracted to women?” The doorbell rang as soon as James finished the question.

Thomas slumped against the counter, knowing that at least two hours worth of fake conversation and disguised insults were probably waiting behind the golden-stained wood. “We’ll talk later.” 

He made his way over to the entryway, building himself back up to put on a gracious face for his guest. 

Deep breath in, a smile plastered on, Thomas opened the door to see-

“Angelica Schuyler.” The fake amiable look was replaced with one of honest joy. “I haven’t seen you in months, Ange! How’s life been treating you?” They traded _faire la bise_ and amiable small while walking to the main, open living area.

“Life’s been alright,” she replied easily. “I got a new motorcycle, but that’s the only big thing that’s happened since we last talked.”

“We haven’t gone riding together in a while.” Thomas jokingly bumped her with his shoulder. “That should change.”

They both entered the dining area where James was wiping down a countertop. “Jemmy, get over here.” He waved James over to where Angelica stopped to snag a glass of water. “This is Angelica Schuyler; we met during my gap year in France. Angie, meet James Madison. He’s a close friend, and I know alllll his secrets.” Thomas punctuated the introduction with a wink. 

James rolled his eyes at Thomas’s antics. “Don’t sound so confident. I knew you in high school.” He offered Angelica a hand, which she took. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Schuyler.”

“You too, Mr. Madison.”

Like clockwork, the doorbell rang again, and Thomas excused himself to go answer it. 

Seeing the oldest Schuyler sister put Thomas back in a good mood, and he was able to open the door without much mental prep. John and Abigail Adams were on the other side, who he directed to the bar where James and Angelica were conversing. He resigned himself to waiting by the door for more people to arrive, not wanting to be torn from any more exchanges with his friends. Plus, it gave him an excuse to not start anything with people he’d rather avoid. 

He wasn’t sure exactly who's coming. The only people he properly invited were James and Angelica. Everyone else was told to show up whenever they pleased.

A few more people arrived while Thomas waited in the foyer. He wasn’t really paying attention to who’s at his house, only catching snippets of information as he directed them towards to bar or the living space: John Jay, who said that he’s a friend of James even though Thomas had never heard James mention him. James Monroe, William Small, and Patrick Henry all arrived on their own. Thomas knew that they were only there for the connections that might be made. Then again, that was the biggest reason for him arranging the event. A guy who introduced himself as Charles Lee and whoever his boyfriend was. John... something.

Privately, Thomas thought there was too many Johns. 

Angelica joined Thomas when she saw his faintly distressed face from across the room. He told her about his concern when she asked what the face was about. It made her laugh a little, seeing a man who was usually so well put together complain about the abundance of a name with a dazed expression. “Do tell me more,” she requested.

Thomas immediately launched into action. “We’ve got John Adams,” he gestured vaguely to where he had seen Adams wander off to, “John Jay,” he thumbed towards to bar where Jay was talking to James, “and the curly-haired John who’s over by the fireplace.”

“Hmm,” Angelica mused. “And my John might show up at some point.” Angelica’s John was John Baker-Church. They’d been dating off and on for years, and no one could ever keep track of when they were together and when they weren’t.

Thomas sighed dramatically. “See my point, Ange? We need to put a limit on how many people can be named John.” He put a hand on his chest and threw himself back onto Angelica, cracking a smile when she pushed him back upright, laughing.

“Well my sister just texted me to ask if she can come, and her name isn’t ‘John’.” She pulled out her phone to send her sister Thomas’s answer.

Thomas righted himself, brushing the wrinkles out of his suit jacket. “Yeah, of course, she can come. Which sister?”

“Youngest. Peggy,” she replied off-handedly, shooting off a message of confirmation. 

He had met Eliza once at the airport when he and Angelica had come back together from France. All they had done was exchange names and a handshake, though.

“I look forward to meeting her.” Angelica nodded once before turning back into the house. Thomas watched her back until she turned a corner, then idly examined his nails.

A few more people made their way in, Thomas not paying attention to any of them. He gave them a friendly greeting and a general layout of the downstairs, then went back to observing the strangers in his home. 

His eyes finally land on the curly-haired John from earlier, whose boyfriend has seemingly disappeared. John didn’t look very agitated at being left alone. He’s watching his phone with a smile, occasionally typing a message out. At one point his gaze flitted up and around the room, briefly landing on Thomas, who got a curt nod, before continuing his search. He zeroed in on something in the direction of the kitchen and lifted up his phone to take a picture with a grin playing across his face. Thomas followed the camera’s view to... James? His eyes narrowed slightly as John assumedly took the picture and sent it to whoever. 

The sound of authoritative footsteps coming up his steps stopped Thomas from confronting John, and he turned towards the door to open it after his next guest rang the doorbell.

The bell never came, and the person walked right on in instead. She raked the house with sharply lined eyes before seeing Thomas looking somewhat stunned behind the door.

“Well, Tommy J. At last we meet,” she said, beaming.

Oh, Thomas knew this act. No one but Angelica would march up Thomas’s steps and let themselves in, calling Thomas terrible nicknames all the while. And, apparently-

“Margarita Schuyler. The feeling’s mutual.” He matched her smile. 

Peggy let out a happy laugh as Thomas stepped aside. “Damn, I knew I shouldn’t have let Angelica let you know about me ahead of us meeting.”

“Your loss. Now I know all of your secrets,” he replied. 

“Why, Mr. Jefferson!” Peggy threw on a thick southern accent to compliment the dramatic hand on her chest. “I figured you’d be too much of a gentleman for such unruly blackmail!”

Angelica materialized next to Peggy and linked their arms together. “Make no mistake, Pegs. Thomas is a cold-hearted politician with no sense of moral values.”

“It’s true, Miss Schuyler,” Thomas gave a solemn nod, “I’m a reptile.” He scanned around the house to make a half-assed headcount and saw James looking trapped in a conversation with James Monroe. “I’ve gotta go rescue James from James, but y’all should stick around after everyone leaves. We can talk some more?”

Peggy and Angelica agreed on staying later, then Peggy bounded over to the fireplace and started chatting with the people milling around. 

Thomas headed towards the bar to snag James away from Monroe. “Jemmy! Would you come to help me move some stuff in my office?”

James shot him a relieved look. “Yeah, sure Thomas.” He walked over to the stairs, hanging back when he noticed Thomas lagging behind a bit.

“You don’t mind, do you, Monroe?” He let faux concern drift over his face as he addressed the disgruntled other-James. “Those bookcases are too big of a job for one person.” Monroe just grunted and grabbed another can of whatever’s chilling in the ice bucket. “Great, thanks.”

Thomas strode over to James, waiting patiently by the staircase, leading up to his office and away from the chatting below. “There’s no way someone convinced you to rearrange your office,” James told him as he neared the banister.

“You’ll find Patrick Henry quite persuasive.” 

Thomas was met with the most dead look James could muster. “Fine,” he huffed. “I could see you doing that thing when you don’t want to talk to someone, but you don’t know how to leave so you drum your fingers on the table and then Dolley gets annoyed with me because I’m the only one who notices and can bring it up without you getting all closed off.” Thomas took a deep breath after delivering his statement as fast as his lungs would allow.

“So you can notice every tell-tale sign that I’m not completely comfortable, but you can’t take care of yourself?” James asked, but it sounded more like a declaration than a question.

Thomas cringed, turning around to avoid the look of apprehension of James’s face. “It’s easier to unnecessarily take care of you than it is to necessarily take care of myself.”

“That’s not fair to yourself, Thomas,” James sighed, almost inaudibly. 

Thomas moved over to the window and looked out over the city. He had been able to buy a house in the suburbs, close enough to the city to be convenient. It only took around 10 minutes to get to Washington’s building on a good day.

He’d met with Washington a week or so ago. Thomas kept an eye out for anyone that could have been Dad, but only one person had been sitting behind the front desk in his time there. They had looked younger than Thomas, and he had quickly ruled them out. Those inklings were confirmed when they had introduced themself as Lafayette in a bubbly French accent.

In the time they had spent talking, Thomas couldn’t help but have noticed the flipped-over nameplate next to Lafayette’s, which had a small French flag sticker and “they/them” written in loopy cursive. He tried to subtly slip in if anyone else worked up front, but failed miserably if Lafayette’s reaction was anything to go by. Their ever-present smile had widened as they glanced at the man behind them- _“My boyfriend, Hercules Mulligan. He does not officially work here, but Washington has long since given up trying to keep him out.”_ -who gave a shake of his head that bordered on imperceptible. 

_“Oui, mon ami, Alex also works out here with me. Unfortunately, he is out sick today.”_ Thomas had done his best not to let his disappointment show. He knew he’d be going back to Washington’s office in the near future. There was always more chances to find Dad outside of that day.

He had glanced up at the clock behind Lafayette to Hercules to find that 15 minutes had passed of the two (occasionally Mulligan chimed in) of them talking. He had excused himself from the conversation and let them get back to work, receiving a cheerful goodbye from Lafayette and a nod from Mulligan. And if he had gotten a new follower notification on Instagram from a “marq_lafayette”, then surely it was just a pure coincidence.

A low whistle caused Thomas to jump as he was broken out of his reminiscing.

 _“Thomas...”_ The man focused on James’s reflection in the glass, flipping through the folder on Thomas’s desk containing his documents for Washington. “Is _this_ the same plan that you’ve been working on for weeks?” Thomas nodded, back still facing James. “This is _damn_ good.”

The pages James had been flitting through were marked up in purple pen: annotations littered the margins, words were crossed out, arrows criss-crossed the page in a hurried fashion, a front and back page of handwritten notes had been stapled to the back. He had most of the revised document typed, and it was already over twice the length of the original.

He felt guilty about not being able to tell James how he had stayed up late, talking to Dad about all the ways to improve Washington’s campaign plan, but it was too risky if it got out into the public. Thomas already had one person that was biased towards recruiting him inside Washington’s team, and it boded ill with all those opposing the possible senator-elect. By that time they had already claimed that Thomas had an unfair advantage against other candidates up for the spot. Getting direct help from one of Washington’s employees would only fan the flames. 

“I got... inspired the other night.” He settled for. Lying to James had always made him feel uneasy. 

“Care to get inspire more often?” James asked. Thomas scowled. “ Fine, I’ll stop. But honestly Thomas,” he watched James’s reflection look up at him, “this is the quality that Washington is looking for.”

Thomas said nothing, just refocused on the New York skyline. The sky had turned into a purple-blue ombre, something that reminded the Virginian of something grossly poetic, like a soft classical piece or midnight drives through the country. There hadn’t been a clear night like that in so long; Thomas could even see a few stars. 

He snorted quietly at his own thoughts, the sappy simplistic part of him that chose the strangest times to reappear. “Hey,” he said suddenly. Thomas turned to James and leaned against the window to feel the cool glass through his shirt. “There’s a kid downstairs who took a picture of you a while ago.”

James frowned.

“Curly hair, shorter than me, lots of freckles.” Thomas ticked off.

James frowned harder. “Laurens. He works at Washington’s office too. Probably telling his fellow cronies that James Madison actually has a life outside of writing letters for Washington.”

“‘Cronies?’” Thomas laughed.

“Hmm,” James hummed, expression lightening a bit at Thomas’s improved mood. “Hamilton, Mulligan, and Lafayette. The four of them are the terrors of the office.”

“Aw, I met Lafayette. They seemed nice,” Thomas mused.

“Lafayette’s the least traumatizing out of all of them. If it were just them, it’d be fine,” the shorter man replied.

Thomas snorted. “You’re really selling this job to me, Jemmy.”

James rolled his eyes and the comment and the nickname. They both knew that a few complaints from James weren’t enough to keep Thomas from wanting to work for Washington. “We should head back downstairs before someone notices we’re still gone.”

Thomas pushed himself off the window to beat James to the door. “After you, dearest,” he said with a sweet smile, to which James chuckled and took Thomas up on the offer.

***********

He didn’t make it to the bottom of the stairs before Peggy grabbed and pulled him down the rest of the flight. The grip on his arm didn’t relinquish as Thomas was hauled around his own living room. Peggy chattered briskly in his ear (which required a good deal of bending on his part) about needing to actually talk to people to keep of appearances. Thomas asked when she became his P.R. manager and earned himself a particularly vicious yank.

“I’ve made a friend, and you’re going to come to meet him because I won’t have you be made out as some weird Julius Winsome who throws parties but stays hidden up in his office the whole time. Got it?” The youngest Schuyler sister challenged him with a glint of steely determination in her eyes.

He’d only known her for a few hours, but Thomas already loved Peggy.

“Alright Tequila, introduce me to your friend.” He earned a smile and a nod of approval for the nickname. She wrapped her fingers around Thomas’s wrist, then they were off again.  
“He’s around here... somewhere...” Peggy was mostly subjected to looking at people’s torsos, but she wouldn’t give Thomas any clues as to who he was meeting on account of it being a surprise. Her eyes lit up as the two neared the front window facing the city, almost directly below the one in Thomas’s office. “John!”

Thomas inwardly groaned at the possibility of there being _another_ John.

“I want you to meet this sad reclusive man that I know!” Peggy lightly elbowed him in the side.

“Hey!”

People were thinning out as they neared the window, making it easier for Thomas to pinpoint “John” as the same one he and James had been discussing earlier. “John Laurens,” he said, stepping forward to shake the other man’s hand, and was met with a derisive eyebrow raise and a brief handshake. 

“I see my reputation precedes me,” John replied, tracing his finger around the rim of his Fanta can.

Thomas snorted. “I asked James about you after I caught you taking pictures of him.”

John grinned wildly in response. “Just trying to prove a point to some work buddies.”

Peggy stepped forward from where she had been watching their conversation on the sidelines. “Great! I’m gonna go find Ange. You two better be best friends when we get back.” She swiftly turned around, skirt swishing behind her, and walked into the crowd. 

There were a few seconds of awkward silence when Peggy left where the two men refused to make eye contact.  
“So, uh, what’s your name?” John hesitated. “How do you know Madison?”

Thomas looked up at John, who was picking at the tab of his can with his thumb. “Thomas Jefferson. James and I are old friends, and he put in a good word for me with Washington.”

John promptly choked on his Fanta. Thomas moved forward to see if he was alright, but John waved him off, tightly gripping the can and coughing erratically. “ _You’re_ Thomas Jefferson?”

“Yes?” Thomas’s brow furrowed unintentionally. “Why the reaction?”

John had now moved onto massaging the base of his throat with his free hand. “Oh, nothing. Just that Laf has talked about you before, and now you’ve caught me off guard.” He trailed off with an embarrassed laugh.

That didn’t seem like a valid reason to start asphyxiation via orange soda, but Thomas let it slide. “Yeah, I met Lafayette once. Mulligan was there too, but he didn’t say much.”

“Hah. Just wait until you get to know Hercules better. Dude never shuts up,” John laughed.

Thomas was opening his mouth to ask why he’d be getting acquainted with Mulligan when Peggy reappeared, Angelica trailing behind her. 

“Party’s wrapping up soon, isn’t it Tom?” She asked, bouncing around in a way that could only be described as childlike. It suited Peggy, though, with her easy going attitude and abundant smiles.

Thomas wrinkled his nose. “Yes, and don’t call me ‘Tom’.”

Angelica shot her sister a look of pure “I told you so”, which Thomas was going to talk very sternly about her with later.

“Whatever you say, bud.” Thomas groaned and Peggy’s grin widened. “John,” she turned to the man watching the two converse, “wanna join us afterward so we can sit on the floor and gossip?”

John turned his head towards Thomas for approval, who simply shrugged. “Sure, I guess. Charles had to leave for ‘urgent business’, though I dunno what could possibly be so urgent about a classical music record distributing company.”

“Sucks for your boyfriend,” Peggy beamed, throwing an arm around John’s elevated shoulders, “‘cause you’re hanging out with the cool kids tonight.”

Angelica rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Peggy before pulling her towards the kitchen to grab snacks. Another minute of quiet passed between John and Thomas, more comfortable than before. 

“Mind if I use your bathroom?” John fiddled with the edges of his phone case as he asked.

“‘Course not. It’s the first door in the hallway near the kitchen.” John gave him a nod of thanks, then weaved through the dwindling number of people still in the house. 

Thomas figured it would only take another 15 minutes before everyone left. Of course, he planned on subtly herding people to the door while making vague comments about how tired he was getting, or all the work that had to be done tomorrow. But right then, he was content with letting people slowly drift out on their own time, and watching Angelica and Peggy argue over whether stick pretzels or twisted pretzels were better.

Maybe Peggy was right. Maybe he should get out more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~some facts~  
> maria cosway (pronounced the same way as maria reynolds, which took me at least 45 minutes to find out) was married to the artist richard cosway, who in this story is richelle. i wanted to keep at least some parts of this mildly historically accurate. and she and jefferson really did have a romantic relationship w h i l e s h e w a s m a r r i e d. highly recommend looking that up. it's a doozy.
> 
> angelica schuyler church met jefferson in france, where jefferson hit on her and angelica Wasn't Interested. but they were friends, so that's cool i suppose.
> 
> james madison really did write a lot of letters for washington, who apparently wasn't very eloquent. i tried to through little bits of history in here because what a shame it would be if y'all came here and didn't learn something :)
> 
> julius winsome is a veerrrryyy reclusive character from the novel "julius winsome" by gerard donovan. without giving away spoliers, i can say that both winsome and historical tjeffs had more books than any one person needs

**Author's Note:**

> leave questions/concerns/thoughts/criticisms in the comments! please!!


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